


Shades of You

by Keystoffees



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom
Genre: Dominant Ben, F/M, Party, Smut, cumbersmut, delayed gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keystoffees/pseuds/Keystoffees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a photo of Benedict in hat and grey scarf.</p><p>I'm so rubbish at titles. I'm sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades of You

*Click* 

*Flash*

"Benedict!"

*Flash*

I'm watching you stand in front of the cameras, smiling your most charming smile for the journalists as they try to catch your attention. You're very good at keeping them at arm's length while making them think they're getting something from you and I realise again how good you are at hiding your real self.

You look like a vision in grey, thick winter coat and grey scarf draped around your neck and I close my eyes as I think about the musky scent of you, imagining running my hands up the nape of your neck and into your hair. I'm interrupted, snapped out of my thoughts, by you shouting over to me and I see you holding out your hand for me to take. I smile and walk towards you, wondering why you're still wearing your hat while we are inside, and your eyes flash seductively as I try to look relaxed for the cameras. 

They're more interested in you, of course, but it still causes me anxiety as I take your hand and turn briefly to smile as they flash and click at me. It's an unfortunate consequence of our relationship, but I knew that when I first agreed to meet you for a drink. You said you'd protect me from it as much as possible and you have. You can be so kind, and so cruel at the same time. 

You lead me in to the hall and we head straight to the bar. You hand me my drink and as our fingers touch briefly I catch my breath, your eyes dancing over my neckline before you turn to greet a friend with a casual hug and a well intended insult. 

You introduce me to people. We chat and I make polite conversation although I am constantly distracted by your hands as they wrap around your glass or brush against the fabric covering my hips. I know what torture those fingers can effect; I have been on the receiving end so many times and it makes me hot with anticipation. You understand exactly what you are doing and I swear I see you smirk as you deliberately squeeze my arm a little too tightly while we talk to an old co-star of yours.

You lean in close and whisper to me as we stand in a group. They talk about the terrible state of the press in Britain; you tell me that you will later find ten different ways to make me come and they will all involve your fingers. I bite my lip as your breath hits my ear, and I know it will make you find an eleventh. 

It is time for you to speak and you make a short address to your peers. You are humble, earnest, warm and endearing to those who don't know you. You make a few jokes and talk for a little longer than you should. Then you raise a glass to toast the charity and elicit cheers and applause from the inebriated crowd. 

We laugh with them again for a short while, but when you tell them we're leaving because you have to be up early, it is no longer amusing. I can feel the heat already and I am nervous. Your scent hits me as you help me into my jacket and you bend to kiss my cheek gently. I am wound so tightly I feel light headed as you guide me out, past the few photographers who have bothered to stay on. You put your head down determinedly and hold a strong grip on my hand as we search for a taxi.

We do not speak in the car as we travel the short distance to my flat. I am struggling to control my breathing by the time you turn to me, cupping my face in your hands and bringing your lips softly to mine. You kiss me so tenderly I wonder if tonight will be one of those nights when you change in front of me, handing me control of our movements.

But I am reassured, surprised, relieved, to find the familiar but unpredictable look in your eyes again as you lead me to my front door and wait for me to unlock it. 

When we reach the door of my flat you follow me through it and place your hands on my shoulders as you close the door behind you. I freeze and wonder what you have planned.

You slowly take your scarf from around your neck and place it in front of my eyes. You tie it tightly around my head and whisper to me that I should not move. I can smell you on the material as it rests on my nose and blinds me, save for a small gap, just enough to see the tips of my feet. I close my eyes.

I am already panting when you lead me into the bedroom and tell me to stand still. I smile at the thought of moving anywhere and you must see this because you nip at my collar bone with your teeth, growling in disapproval. Your nimble fingers are inching my clothing off me, unzipping my dress slowly and sliding down my panties and I think I might be shaking already. 

You run your hands up my hips, following the curve of my waist and up to my bra, sliding around to unclasp it and letting it fall to the floor. Your fingertips brush my nipples and I moan. I cannot help it. You grunt in approval, or is it disapproval? I am not sure anymore, but I know I do not regret it.

Your fingers find me so wet that you easily slip two inside me while I stand in front of you. I cry out at your touch and you pull away, guiding me firmly onto the bed, where I lie on my back as you spread apart my legs with one hand, running the other across my mouth, forcing me to taste myself on your skin. My senses are so heightened that when you begin to rub my clit, I feel my orgasm building quickly. 

I cannot see your face but I know you are smirking again as you stop just before I tip over the edge. Everything falls away and I lie, exposed, waiting for you to touch me again. You give me enough time to lose the feeling before you begin again, building up the fire but not letting me burn. You laugh, teasing me, and it is all I can do not to swear at you; I know if I do you will only make me wait longer before you let me come. 

I reach out to you and you are still fully clothed. I can feel your erection under your trousers and I long for you to fuck me. But I know you will keep your promises and that you will make me fall apart time and time again before you finally join me, releasing me from the power you currently hold over me.

When you are satisfied that I have waited long enough, the fingers of one hand dance over me expertly, while the other hand enters me again. You fuck me like that until I squirm against your touch, unable to keep quiet any longer, crying out my curses and your name as I finally orgasm and it lasts for an eternity. I cannot breathe and you let me recover for a short time, biting my lip and kissing my neck, before you start again. 

After what feels like hours, you are at last content to fuck me, and you gently untie your scarf and remove it from my eyes. As I adjust to the regaining of my sight I see you smiling kindly at me and if I did not know you well I would be confused by your polarity. You remove your clothes and move over me, licking at my lips as you ready yourself. 

I love you. 

You are still wearing your hat.


End file.
